


Instinct

by Mythicamagic



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-War, Romance, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythicamagic/pseuds/Mythicamagic
Summary: Ulquiorra watches and waits for something. He's not sure what it is, but he's certain it's a thing only Orihime can provide. Short Ulquihime Post-war oneshot
Relationships: Ulquiorra Cifer/Inoue Orihime
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr for an ask game prompt. Lookit me writing Ulquihime when I said I probably wouldn't again lol. This is pretty standard. I just needed to write something again x

Ulquiorra liked to take his time. He'd analyse a situation and react accordingly, though in the past that had involved a lot of instinct and thinking on his feet when dealing with hollows or arrancars.

Now he was dealing with a human woman.

After being restored back to life and finding that his hollow hole had disappeared, he'd taken up residence in her apartment. It hadn't been an easy process, what with Soul Society breathing down his neck and regular check-ups, tests. And yet the woman had fought tooth and nail in order to acquire him in her home. Ulquiorra had wondered, at first, if she'd tried so hard in order to imprison him as he had her.

About five minutes into living with her, such thoughts had been proved incorrect.

Orihime sought to introduce him to every flavour of life there was. No matter how mundane the activity, such as shopping, she made an effort to try and be his companion and navigator. It was like she'd appointed herself to be his overly zealous flight attendant while he remained a confused passenger.

He accepted her cooking as though it were perfectly normal and then stared questioningly when her friends gaped at him. Was there something wrong with peanut butter on pickles? He was beginning to think so. All their human food was strange to him though.

Yet by far, the strangest and most troubling thing about his situation was, once again, the woman.

Because he kept getting… urges. And they were currently in full force as Orihime leaned her head on his shoulder, watching television. He did not understand such logic. Shouldn't a former captive want to be away from him? And yet she'd resurrected him, fought for him, clothed him, fed him, housed him, so Ulquiorra could only conclude she _wanted_ him near.

His body remained stiff, entire being watching and waiting. He didn't know what for, on the precipice of discovery. He'd been with this affliction for months- no- maybe even before that when she'd lain on that sofa dressed in pure white, with the bars of her cell casting shadows over her pale face.

He could feel her soft, lush curves pressing against the line of tension in his arm. He shifted in his seat, a mistake, since it caused her to look at him questioningly, perhaps wondering if she was invading his personal space.

She was.

Ulquiorra stared at her, unblinking. He didn't care.

He was close enough to count her lashes that fluttered shut, then open again.

Somehow his mouth pressed to hers. It happened without his consent or say so, despite him initiating it. He inhaled her startled breath, filling his lungs, organs, veins and bones with her unique taste and scent. Ulquiorra then reluctantly exhaled, pulling away.

Orihime's cheeks flushed red. She stared, becoming the unblinking one. Watchful. She then maddeningly tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, searching his green gaze. "Ulquiorra?"

"Yes? I'm listening."

Of course he was, always did. He drank in everything there was about her. The non-human, non-arrancar both hated and sighed with pleasure at the hold she had over him. Orihime Inoue had forged him anew in blazing fairy light, breaking his hollow mask and filling in the gaping emptiness with the assault of new, confusing emotions. He could crawl to and curse at her waiting feet.

This time their teeth knocked. Bone white fingers latched tight in her brilliant hair, yanking her closer just as full lips pressed to his black upper one, tongues meeting. She felt soft under his cruel hands, but strong, tangible as he touched and kissed every inch of her.

It was instinctual, like breathing. He couldn't analyse this. Couldn't analyse her. But he found that instinct wasn't so terrible a thing to follow.

_End_


End file.
